


Long Live the King

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: And prideful, Dark Thranduil, Dark fic, F/M, Hobbit, Tolkien, Under the Table, dark!Thranduil - Freeform, dark!fic, he's insecure, king thranduil - Freeform, maid and king, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The king shows you who is in charge.Warnings: noncon/dubcon (rough sex).This is dark!Thranduil and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Relationships: Thranduil/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 317





	Long Live the King

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been over a year since I wrote Tolkien so I decided that to kinda take the pressure off I would try it again and return to my roots. This is my first (official) dark!Thranduil fic and it just flowed so I’m hoping you all enjoy it. As usual, pay attention to the warnings! Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Leave some feedback and a kudos especially as it’s a little different than my usual fare <3

You always enjoyed the banquets in Mirkwood. Not because of the dancing or the food; as a servant, you did not indulge in the like. You preferred them because they made the nights pass quicker. They weren’t so tedious as sweeping the corridors or making beds. 

The music, the cheer, the sense of carelessness released you and your fellow servants from the bonds of propriety. Any slip in your manners or oversight in your work was barely noticed by the drunken and distracted lords and ladies. Little messes could be attended to later and so long as you kept the wine flowing, remonstrance was lost to the bottles.

You stood in the corner with Ilane as you watched the elves in their swaths of silk and satin. Their voices were abuzz throughout the hall as they stepped and spun in time with the music; or tried to. Many were clumsy from imbibing; others careless in their raucousness. You cradled an ewer against your stomach as you awaited a signal and watched the guests cavort.

“Oh, Eru, would you look at the prince?” Siena remarked as she neared with a pair of empty steins. She swept around to gaze out across the hall. “Isn’t he so… handsome?”

“Yes indeed,” Ilane agreed as she smiled at the pale prince. Legolas was himself entranced with a scarlet-haired partner. “Isn’t he?”

Ilane elbowed you and you shook yourself from your trance. You blinked and cleared your throat. You shrugged and glanced over to the younger royal once more. 

“I suppose…” You said. “I would be amiss and dishonest to disagree. The prince is rather fetching.”

The girls giggled and you looked from one to the other. Your smile died on your lips and you never joined their mirth. You felt the shadow behind you and turned to step away from the mouth of the passageway that opened to the labyrinthine corridors. Ilane and Siena followed your gaze and mimicked you as you carefully curtsied with the ewer balanced against you.

“Your majesty,” You greeted the king. “Pardon us, we do stand in your way.”

“You do,” He agreed as you backed up against the wall to let him pass. “And you do tarry in your duties.”

Thranduil’s silver eyes flashed and the others bowed their heads and mumbled apologies. You echoed them more firmly as the king narrowed his sights on you. His eyes fell to the wine in your hands and he flicked to fingers towards the hall.

“My goblet is empty,” He declared. “You shall fill it.”

“Your majesty,” You ceded and lowered your head. 

He finally stepped past you and the other girls sent you a look. The king was known for his temper and his ill-founded grudges in the slightest of offences, even in none at all. You followed him dutifully as he strode up the stairs of the platform to the high table. He reached across and turned back to you with his grand silver goblet. The sapphires shone in the lantern light as you poured.

You bent again and slowly backed away. He sipped as you neared the end of the table. 

“Wait,” He called to you. “Stay. I shall require more as the night wears on me.”

“I shall be around, your majesty, I must attend to other guests.” You replied.

“You must attend to me,” He argued. “Your little friends can see to the rest of my guests.”

“As you wish,” You recited.

“Surely, as I wish,” He assured you and he swept away from you. He marched along to the end and around the other side of the table. “Up here,” He pointed behind his chair as he pulled it out from the table. “No use standing down there like a statue.”

You followed his path and stopped just behind him. You stood at his shoulder with the half-spent pitcher. His long fingers tapped along the side of his goblet between swigs and he looked out across the dance floor. He never joined in, not since his wife’s demise. That was long ago but the scars still marked the kingdom. And him.

He drained the last mouthful and held up his goblet for you to refill it. You did so diligently and he drank without pause. His thumb ran over a teardrop sapphire as he admired the cup.

“My son is rather… princely, isn’t he?” He mused. “The very essence of the elvish heir…”

“Surely, your majesty.” You agreed. “He does take after you.”

He scoffed and took another gulp. “Do not tell me as you think I want you to. Speak as you think…” He swirled the wine, “You think him handsome… fetching?”

“He is not unsightly,” You returned.

“I shall not ask for your honesty again,” He sneered. “As a king, I ask for nothing.”

“I do think he is handsome, your majesty, but I see not how the opinion of a maid should matter.” You said.

“Oh, it matters not,” He tilted his head and you saw the hint of a smirk. “You must have fancies that it could. You and your little pigeons titter so and dream of it, hmmm? That any lord could see a sliver of worth in you.”

You were silent. You’d heard of his malice but never were so unfortunate to be at the mercy of it. You stared ahead and he took another drink.

“More wine, your majesty?” You gestured with the ewer.

“Very well,” He said but withheld his cup. “I tire of the white. I wish for red.” He twirled the goblet, “Fetch it, will you?”

🍷

Your night was spent as such; filling Thranduil’s cup until he was yawning and so uncouth that you could barely withhold your own tongue. He stood and clapped his hands to signal the feast’s end. You noticed the waver in his stance. He’d finished more than an ewer on his own. Even he could not resist the vimor of Elvish wine.

He leaned on his chair as he watched his guests disperse in pairs and trios, chattering even as they yawned and longed for a pillow. You were silent as you backed into the shadows and he turned. His lashes flicked as he saw you, as if recalling your presence, and his lips curled slightly.

“Shall I fetch your footman, your majesty?” You asked.

“You…” He raised his finger at you, “Shall await my orders.” He declared. “You… can be my footman for the night.” His hand fell on your shoulder and he shoved you. “Come on.”

You swallowed and led him along the table. You were unsure what to say though you could not disobey his command. As you reached the end, he stopped you, his hand on your shoulder again. You turned slightly and he grabbed the handle of the ewer. He ripped it away and slammed it on the table.

“Go on,” He waved past you. “You should know where my chamber lies.”

As any servant, you did. You continued down the stairs as he traipsed behind you. He was like your shadow as he loomed closer and closer. His usual graceful stride was uneven as you wove along the bridges and twisted walkways.

When you came upon his doors, he reached over your shoulder and held out a single golden key on a blue ribbon. You took it without further prompting. You were swift to unlock the door and open it for him. He entered lithely and his fingers worked at unbuttoning his robe. You stayed by the door, clinging to the handle.

“Close it,” He demanded. “You will help me retire for the night.”

Your chest rattled but you closed the door. He faced you as you neared him and his hands took yours. He lifted them to the front of his robe. “You may hang it by the door,” He smirked. “My boots are to be placed beside the wardrobe.”

You finished loosing the rest of the buttons and he dropped the robe from his shoulders. You pulled it free from his arms and his silver eyes followed your every move. You hung it as he bid and returned to him as he sat heavily on the bed. He splayed his feet out and you knelt to unlace them. He leaned back on his hands, still focused upon your work.

You slipped the boots from his feet and tucked the laces in. You looked up but took pause at the bulge in his lap. You blinked and quickly stood. You went to the wardrobe and placed the boots on the rack beside it. You returned to him as he sat forward. He caught your hand again and tugged you close.

He led your hand to his crotch and pressed it to the hardness within his trousers. You blanched and tried to pull away. He held you there and snickered.

“You think that’s for you?” He spat. “Oh, dear, you think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“No, your majesty,” You stilled and looked him in the eye. “I know not what you mean. Shall I continue in readying you for bed?”

His lip curled and he pushed away your hand.

“Go on,” His nostrils flared. “I can finish on my own. I needn’t a wench to help me.”

You bowed and gave a measured ‘your majesty’. He let out a dark breath and you backed away to the door. You reached behind you and let yourself out. His fingers gripped the waist of his trousers as you pulled the door closed behind you. You were quick to flit away the moment the wood met the frame.

🍷

You weren’t the first servant to be humiliated by the king. You’d heard tales of his rants and ravings so it was no surprise when he quickly forgot about you. It was truly a relief. You were just another in a line of those he felt to be ungrateful and impertinent. He had undoubtedly found another in the week since to turn his wrath upon.

Your life was as it was. There was no sudden ejection or demotion, as you feared. You swept, mopped, wiped the walls, polished the silver, tidied chambers. Your duties were as banal as before. 

Well, Thranduil’s words had proven true. A maid mattered little to those above her.

That day, the king had held a dinner for his son and his favoured nobles. A close affair in a dining room close to the feast hall. These meals weren’t unusual. Some offhand celebration of a council declaration or diplomatic victory. You were among several who were to tidy up after them.

Ilane and Siena gathered the empty dishes and Tonia took the dirtied tablecloth to the laundries. You were left to wipe the table and sweep the floor. Simple enough. You took a cloth and set to cleaning the long trestle. You neared the door as you came around the end and bent over the wood to reach as far as you could. The hinges whispered behind you unexpectedly but you assumed one of the girls had returned for something they’d overlooked.

“Forgive me,” The prince’s voice had you straight as a stalk and you turned to greet him with a bow. You realized how vulgar you must’ve looked with your rear in the air. “I believe I did leave my ring behind.”

“Your highness,” You bent your knee and balled the cloth in your hand. “I haven’t seen it but I might help you look to see if it has fallen.”

“Very well,” He smiled kindly. He was much nicer than his father and you had to agree with Siena; he was very handsome.

He neared the table and you mirrored him on the other side. You pushed between the chair and the table and got down to search the floor. He did the same and you saw the pale amethyst upon the band of white gold. You reached for it as he did too and his hand closed around yours. You flinched and tried to pull away.

“Apologies, your highness,” You gasped.

His grip lingered but he let your hand slip from his. He took the ring and held it up between you. He was awfully close as he looked over at you. 

“Quick eye,” He praised. “No need to apologize.” He turned the ring in his fingers as you began to back out. “Wait,” He beamed at you as you paused. “Do you like it?”

“What?” You blinked.

“The ring? Do you like it?” He asked again.

“I think it is very fine, your highness.” You said.

“Well, I should agree but I think it would look finer…” He held it out. “On you.”

Your eyes rounded and you kept from laughing aloud. “Your highness, with all respect, you should keep it. It is yours.”

“I have many. I should want such a… fetching lady as yourself to have it.” He looked at the ring and stretched his arm towards you. “Won’t you honour me by wearing it?”

“I… cannot,” You felt your cheeks burn. “Really, it’s… rather foolish, your highness. I’m a maid and…”

“A pretty maid,” He said. “A pretty maid I would have wear my ring…” He came forward on his knees, his neck bent beneath the table, and took your hand. He turned it palm up and pressed the ring to it. “And nothing else.” He winked.

You pulled away in shock. The ring bobbled from your hand and fell back to the wood. “Your highness, I…”

He began to laugh. You gaped at him and he picked up the ring. He looked up at you with a grin as his guffaws died. 

“You really think I would have any interest in you?” He chided. “Oh, you maids are so easy.”

Your brow wrinkled in disgust. You hung your head as you sat back on your heels and folded your hands over your skirt. You wanted to cry at his tone; his repulsion, his mockery. He tucked the ring in his pocket and sighed.

“To think…” His voice was deeper and you slowly looked up. His hair paled just a little as his brows grew thicker and his features sharpened. Thranduil smirked back at you. “A prince and a maid.”

“Your highness.” You reeled and balled your skirts in your fists. “I–”

“A prince…” He scoffed. “Let me show you what makes a king.”

You yelped as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched you forward. “Ow, let go!”

“Are you telling your king what to do?” He asked as he released you and his hand flew up to your throat. He drew you closer so your noses were almost touching. “You and your trite little tongue.”

“St-o-op,” You gulped out as you grabbed his wrist. “Why–”

“A king cannot stand for such insolence,” He squeezed and forced you down onto your back. You kicked as you clawed at him. “Do you think I forgot, my pigeon?”

“I did not– You’re– I can’t breathe,” You gasped as you tried to pry his fingers away.

“All the better for I tire of your words,” He climbed over you and pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the floor. “I tire of your arrogance. You must…” He leaned in, his breath hot on your cheek, “Recall your place. Recall mine.” His grip tightened. “Recall who is king.”

“Please,” You rasped as you pushed against his chest. “Pl–”

He silenced you with his lips. It was as if he meant to devour you. His kiss was rough, hungry, and sour with wine. He rolled his hips and you felt the same hardness in his trousers. His fingers loosened and slipped down between you. He spread his hand over your bodice and cupped your tit. He pulled back and the tip of his nose tickled yours.

“I can be the prince,” He taunted. “But you’ll be begging for me by the time we’re done.”

You shook your head as his appearance flickered. It was Legolas over you for a split second before the king appeared once more. He leaned in again, this time his lips were on your throat as you writhed beneath him. He sank his teeth into your neck and you cried out. He only bit harder as he delighted in your pain.

His other hand snaked between you and he lifted his pelvis as he tugged up your skirts. You continued to kick as he forced his knee between your legs and inched the fabric above it. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you pushed on his shoulders desperately. His fingers hooked under your bodice and a loud tear added to the tempo.

You whined as you felt his fingers along your knee and shuddered as he tickled your thigh.

“Your majesty, what are you– I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t–”

His hand shot up from your chest and he covered your mouth. “Shhhh,” He pulled back again. “You must learn to obey.” He growled. “It is what got you into this mess, my pigeon.”

You trembled as he rescinded his hand and lifted himself on his knees, your left leg between his as he held you in place. He parted your torn bodice and his pupils grew as he groped you. He held your tits and flicked your nipples with his thumb. You were ashamed as you body twitched in response and your nipples hardened.

He bent over you again, this time he buried his face in your chest as he held himself up on an elbow. He nibbled along your tits and stopped to take a nipple in his mouth and suck. You let out a long breath as he pushed both his legs between yours and forced them apart. He pushed your skirts up to your waist and the cool air sent a shiver through you.

His fingers brushed along your thigh and traced your vee. You closed your eyes and turned your head away. You bit your lip as the flutter within sickened you. Why did you feel this way? You grabbed his shoulders and tried to move him; he easily ignored you. Your nails sank into the brocade as he dragged his finger between your folds. You squeaked.

“That’s it,” He lifted his head from your chest. “You see what a king can do…”

He pressed another finger to your clit and rubbed slowly. You kept your eyes on the table above as you squirmed. You didn’t want to like it. He began to circle your bud and your thighs tensed against his. He pushed your legs even wider and slowly drew his hand away. You swallowed through your dry throat as you felt him fumbling around.

You felt another pressure along your clit. You inhaled through clenched teeth as he rubbed his tip along your folds. He spread your arousal over your clit and you tried to wiggle away from him. He slid his arm beneath yours and his fingers clung to your shoulder as he held you still.

“Look at me,” He ordered as he guided his cock along your entrance. “Look at your king!”

Your eyes snapped to his and your lips formed an o as he pushed inside of you. You dug your nails into his shoulders and sobbed as he impaled you entirely. You slapped at his chest and tried to shove him off of you. He began to thrust as he lowered his weight onto you and trapped your arms beneath him.

“Your majesty,” You quavered, “Please…”

“Say it again.” He said as he continued to rock his hips. “Say it.” 

“Your majesty,” You gritted.

“Again.” He commanded.

You repeated yourself and he sped up. His pelvis rubbed against your clit with each thrust. He pushed his other arm beneath your shoulder and grasped your head between his large hands. He gaze down at you as he fucked you harder and harder, delighting in the pain as it contorted your face.

“I am still the king,” He growled as he jerked into you. “Still your king.”

You nodded and your eyes rolled back as the sparks began to swirl around your core. You bent your legs and arched your feet as you felt the sudden rise. Your orgasm erupted from you in a series of agonized moans. You shook beneath him as you came and your tortured ecstasy only seemed to encourage him.

He pushed himself up and grabbed onto your hips as he hunched beneath the shelter of the table. He rammed into you over and over as he jerked your body over the floor. His grunts mingled with your pathetic whimpers. You were sore and throbbing as he pounded into you without relent, his fervour building with each thrust.

He sank into you with a spasm and came. He swore as his grip tightened on your hips and he bucked as he emptied himself in you. You covered your face as you felt his pleasure seeping into you and his shaky breaths enshrined you beneath the table.

He was slow, reluctant even, to pull out of you. His cum dripped out of you and onto the wood as your hands fell from your face. You looked down weakly as he tucked his cock away and laced up his trousers. He chest rose and fell as he smooth out the front of his robe.

“You should clean up this mess,” He dragged his finger along your slick thigh before he slowly back out from under the table. “I shall call on you when I require your duties, ” His boots strode to the door and he paused, “And you will fly to me, won’t you, my pigeon?”


End file.
